


Letter to a Young Lord

by whitachi



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His Excellency al-Cid of Rozarria had no hesitance in writing to Larsa, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter to a Young Lord

To my Dearest Comrade, Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor of Archadia, 

The weather is markedly foul in Rozarria in this part of the year, so I will begin by begging you to forgive the brevity of this missivethough no doubt the young lord already grows weary of my letters. The last which you should have received (if I may trust in the speed and reliability of our post) is of far greater import; that which you read now is perhaps no greater than compulsion put into ink, a terrible habit of mine it is to be compelled to record such thoughts as dance through me in the heat of the day. I thank you, the young lord, for receiving these scribbles so graciously o'er the years. 

'Twas as I passed through the gardens here this morning that some rustle of wind or dappling of sunlight did catch me into a memory of the time when I was not many years older than you are now, and when I could still find myself welcome in Archadia, when the hostilities between our nations were as yet only trembling to a simmer, instead of wailing in full steam as they are now. As I have mayhap mentioned in passing before, I was, in these visits of diplomatic interests, a close companion of your eldest brother, the late and honored Islude Atkascha Solidor, may he rest in greater peace now. This time had fortune's smile, for it coincided with the time of your own infancy, when the presence of such a pleasing child did much to ease the numbered tensions in the palace at that time. 

Your late and honored brother oft had a habit of lingering abed in mornings, sluggish to stir to much action until he had taken two cups of tea and one of your dreadful heavy Archadian breakfasts... I wonder, do you, my dear friend, have the same habit? Please, pardon my digression. I was greater in impatience then than I am now, and I would take to the gardens whilst waiting for my comrade to come to his full alertness. 'Twas on one such of these mornings, one of those rare warm and sunlit days in that dreary machine you call your capitol, that I happened to espy an interesting scene in the inner palace gardens. 

My young lord had been assigned, of course, his contingent of nurses with their heavy skirts and heavier bosoms, but he had also been given to the attention of a young guard of House Solidor, for protection more severe than your nursemaids' scowls could provide. He was a Northern man, one of those odd sort with the chocobo-hued hair, and your late and honored brother told me he had been chosen by your noble father himself to take to House Solidor's service, an act of mercy after the machinations of war had taken his homeland. He was quiet, and dour, and none to fond of my presence at any juncture, but ah! that I caught him in such a moment, when he could not fix a scowl upon me. 

Your loyal guard, Larsa, stayed but only a few steps behind you as you, charming and chubby-cheeked, took to crawling through the tailored grass and bothering at the flowers. Your nurses were set in a clucking of gossips in the shade, surely only attuned to wait to hear you cry. They did not see, but I did, when your guard, the Northern man not many years older than myself, smiled at you in the spotty sunlight, and lifted you into his arms, away from your explorations of the flora. I regret that I could not hear him, instead could only see his mouth move... I know not what he said to you, or perhaps what even he sang to you, but it brought such a smile upon your young face, and a bright child's laugh that created the only smile I ever saw grace the visage of your most usually unfriendly guard. 

Regrettably, your delight caught the attention of your nurses, who made haste to remove you from the man who would do such an awful thing as to make you smile without permission and a writ of approval from the Emperor himself. 

It is the sunlight in my own gardens this morning that brought me to write you this, and the thought of that guard of yours. That other foreigner who came to the court of Archades at the same time as I, he has advanced far, more such than might ever be thought of a Northern man broken to the yoke. But I wonder, does he still linger in step behind you, and give you yet songs even now? 

Yours Always in Trust,  
al-Cid ibn Hasan y Gutierres El Abdajorah Margrace of the Empire of Rozarria 


End file.
